The Unicorn and the Eagle
by babua
Summary: It is WWII and Alfred F.Jones is a Prisoner of War, held captive by the German Army. He is imprisoned in a P.O.W camp, and in this camp he meets Arthur Kirkland. The two strike up a friendship but their experiences together will possibly haunt them forever.
1. Chapter 1

_Once upon a time, there was an eagle. _

_The eagle was courageous and strong but one day he was captured by the evil black eagle. The black eagle wished the world to be his but many creatures defied him, especially the brave eagle. So, when the brave eagle was caught he was thrown into a dungeon. What the black eagle forgot however was that he had also trapped a unicorn in that same dungeon. _

_The two became fast friends, the unicorn was a clever creature and together with the brave eagle they hatched a plan._

**December 1944**

It was the start of a new year, a time of celebration with family and friends, a time when resolutions were made, where a person could start anew. For U.S. Technician fifth class Alfred F. Jones the New Year brought no such pleasure.

It was a cold and windy night, the cold, like a leech, sucked all warmth from the soldier's body; Alfred watched his heated breath vaporise in front of him, and then vanish as soon as it appeared, all the while desperately wishing for the mist to defrost his iced skin. He and the other men were being shoved along by a group of German officers, who snapped at any who slowed.

A collection of barracks loomed ahead, all greatly dilapidated, with the repulsive scent of excrement emitting from the open latrines that lined each barrack. The prisoners gagged, the Germans laughed and pushed the men forward since no compassion was spared for the enemy. The lack of food and water had left the prisoners frail and weak; men were collapsing from exhaustion, many of them Privates, so young and naïve, believing they would be fighting for glory but instead were spilling the blood of the innocent and watching comrades being gunned down before them.

How Alfred remembered when he had enlisted, so full of hope and pride, unsuspecting the terrors ahead. No matter how glorious war seemed, in reality, it was hell. A hell where the memories of dying comrades were seared into the subconscious until you begged for relief, a hell where fiery pits were welcomed instead of the bitter cold. However, Alfred knew he had to stay strong, not only for the other soldiers but for him too, he would not fall prey to the devouring beast that prowled his mind, trying to consume all the remnants of hope and happiness that still remained. As a child Alfred aspired to be a hero. He knew these men needed a hero and now was the time to rescue them.

"Get a can from the pile and stand in line!" a German barked in English, and pointed to a pile of rusted tins stacked on the ground. "Do not lose it; you will not be given another."

The men grabbed a tin and lined up in front of a man with a large pot. The scent caused Alfred's stomach to growl and many other mouths to drool. Each man walked away with his tin steaming, Alfred eventually reached the food and held out his own, it was filed with a soup which he later discovered to be rutabaga. The guards shoved the men back who eagerly were trying to return for seconds but Alfred cleverly hid behind the large frame of a Russian man, Ivan was his name. The men were scared of him, even the Germans. Apparently he had escaped the camp and it took nearly five soldiers to bring him to his knees. His violet gaze laced the atmosphere with menace, so many avoided him, except Alfred, he would look straight back, purple colliding with blue. Alfred was a soldier and he would not flee in fear, he would stand up and fight.

Even before everyone had finished eating, the prisoners, with the exception of Ivan, were herded into a rudely built barrack a few metres away. Alfred watched as a large group of Germans escorted Ivan further down the camp.

A German kicked the door open violently, almost breaking it off its hinges. There were no lights illuminating their path so a few men stumbled on entry. Alfred could make out the figures of other men in the shadows who shrunk away from the newcomers. Once Alfred and the others were inside the German slammed the door closed and the room was shrouded in darkness.

Small cracks in the walls provided only a slither of light to slice through the darkness but not enough to be sufficient. As Alfred's eyes adjusted, he noticed that the room was crowded, very crowded, wooden bunks were pushed closely together, two rows with six in each. There were no mattresses and the only sheet provided was a worn blanket, and from the scent of vomit and urine that assaulted his nose, it clearly indicated that they were not too clean.

The retreating sound of boots crunching on gravel indicated that the Germans were marching away. In a short span of time the men hidden in the shadows had dived for the bunks in the middle of the room. Later, Alfred was told that sleeping in the middle was the warmest. The newly arrived men headed towards the bunks on the outskirts of the room. Alfred chose a bottom bunk in a far corner as there were fewer cracks in the wall and therefore less chance for the cold wind to disturb him. The bottom bunk next to it was occupied by another man; he was already lying down his body turned away from Alfred.

The wooden floorboards creaked under the weight of the bunk as Alfred sat down. He placed his tin on the floor and, looked at the man's turned back; the American's presence not acknowledged. Alfred sighed, arranged himself on the bunk as comfortably as he could, using his arm as a pillow and grabbing the blanket that was thrown carelessly at the foot of his bed, pulling it over himself.

The grunts of the other men could be heard as they tried to find comfort on the hard wood. The room was silent, with the exception of a few men who murmured to each other, two men, one in the bunk above Alfred and the other above the man next to him were whispering furiously, Alfred listened in.

"Bloody Germans, even the Americans have been caught; our only hope of being saved now would be from the Soviets."

"Soviets would probably use us for their own gain anyway; even so, we probably won't live long enough to be rescued."

Their accents sounded British but their miserable tones deeply saddened the American. The men had obviously been imprisoned for a long period, so long that they probably no longer believed in hope. Alfred worried, would he develop the same outlook over time in this hellish prison?

The man next to him sneezed.

"Bless you." Alfred whispered.

The man did not speak but Alfred saw his body stiffen for a moment.

The night dragged on until the murmuring stopped, replaced with snores and heavy breathing. Alfred could hear the conversations exchanged between the German soldiers patrolling outside. However, he had no knowledge of the language, so to him, it was gibberish.

Alfred's mind began to wander, images of his family's faces flashed before him, his mother's sweet smile, his brother's smirk that always appeared whenever Alfred acted a fool. Then his father's salute right before Alfred walked out the door of his West Virginian home, beginning a life that he never knew would bring him such sorrow; the thought of not seeing the people he loved again pained him, and he could not stop the tears. Even a hero was allowed to cry.

* * *

Alfred awoke to a firm hand shaking his shoulder.

"Wake up."

Alfred's eyes felt swollen and puffy from his tears the night before, he blinked them open and looked into a pair of emeralds and two rather large eyebrows.

"The guards are checking the room, stand at the foot of your bed and don't say a word."

Judging by his accent the green eyed man was British; he turned and quickly folded his blanket on the bunk next to Alfred. He turned to see the American still sprawled across the bunk, he groaned and tore the blanket off him and folded it too and placing it at the foot of Alfred's bed.

"I am not joking boy, get up." At that moment four German soldiers marched in. Alfred noticed each prisoner in the room was already standing at attention. He scrambled out of bed quickly adjusting his clothes before the soldiers reached his bunk. It was still quite dark outside; it seemed that it was still an hour or so before dawn. The men were shivering as blasts of winter air entered the room through the door. The prisoners were not equipped for Germany's cold conditions as their clothes merely consisted of pants, a shirt, a field jacket, socks and boots. Alfred snuck a glance at the Britain standing next to him and by the looks of his clothing and dirty blond hair prisoners were not given the opportunity to clean at all.

The Germans split off and began to search under each bunk; they felt around trying to see if any clever prisoner had concealed anything there. A broad shouldered German with light blond hair, and pale blue eyes reached Alfred's bunk and began searching. There was something about the man that was different but Alfred was unsure what it was.

The search did not take long and nothing was found except a colony of mice and an army of cockroaches. Then, one German had pulled a note out his coat pocket and started reading it aloud; informing the American and British prisoners that their armies were crumbling, and the German's successful counter-offensive against the Allied Expeditionary on the 16th proved that victory for the Germans was within reach.

Alfred's heart sunk, he glanced around the room seeing the heartbroken expressions on many of the men's faces. The Germans laughed at their misery, and exited the barrack but not before spitting on a nearby prisoner on their way out.

The men were silent and continued to be so as they moved around the room. Alfred noticed the green eyed man was no longer standing next to him but was motioning to two men across the room, pointing towards the door. They headed towards the door and stood on either side, and peered through a crack each. After a moment they turned giving a thumbs-up. The emerald eyed man nodded and kneeled on the floor, he then started to knock on a section of the floor; he did this for a little longer until he found what he was looking for. He pushed on a plank of wood and it lifted revealing a gap, the Britain eased the wood up slowly to exposing a hidden alcove, and in it was what looked to be a radio receiver.

"Wow, how did ya get one of those?" Alfred kneeled down and reached for it but his hand was slapped away.

"Belt up, idiot! Do you want the Jerries to find out?" Hissed the Englishman as he pulled out the radio and began to fiddle with the knobs. Quiet static emitted from the wooden box, and the other men gathered around the pair.

"Hey Arthur, found anything yet?" A soldier whispered close by.

"Not at the moment Matthew."

_Matthew? _Alfred instantly remembered his smiling brother, a Canadian Gunman who was to be shipped off to Japan a few weeks after Alfred had been scheduled to leave for Germany. He hoped no harm had befallen him.

The static from the radio cleared and the men cheered quietly, not wanting to alert suspicion from their German captors. Arthur set the radio down and sat down on Alfred's bunk. The American joined him, their arms brushing; Arthur edged away his cheeks flushed slightly, Alfred was too interested in the broadcast to notice.

_Germany has used most of its remaining reserves in their launch of a massive counter-offensive in the Ardennes to split the Western Allies, and capture their primary support port at Antwerp, hoping to prompt a political settlement. The Red Army however have already advanced into Yugoslavia, forcing the rapid withdrawal of German forces. Currently the Soviets are launching a massive assault against German-occupied Hungry. The Germans are…._

The static returned and the report became incoherent, however, the men did not need to hear the rest. The Germans were losing and it was only a matter of time before the Axis powers fell.

The news did not make Alfred feel entirely at ease though; he knew that what had been mentioned by the prisoner the night before was true, the Soviets were not likely to return the German's prisoners to their respective countries as a gesture of good faith. They would likely use them as a political bargaining tool.

Arthur switched the radio off and the men returned to their bunks. Alfred watched the other blond return the radio to its hiding place, until he noticed a small book stored there as well.

"Arthur what is that?"

Arthur immediately placed the board back into position. "Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing Artie." Alfred reached down and tried to pull the wood up, he was pushed away harshly causing him to hit his head on the bunk above.

"Ouch, what was that for?" Alfred rubbed the back of his head, feeling a lump forming.

"Never touch that, and do not call me that stupid name!" Arthur was going red in the face, he had his fists clenched, but judging by the way his clothes hung off him, if he was to throw a punch it had more chance of harming him than Alfred.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, alright." Alfred grabbed his blanket and spread it on top of the bunk; he threw himself down on it, placing his hands behind his head and staring at the wooden bunk above. He was counting the grains in the wood when Arthur spoke.

"Sorry…my actions were…unnecessary."

Alfred began to laugh, "It's no problem Arthur, being cooped up in a place like this for so long, it's a surprise you haven't punched everyone." Alfred sat up and brushed a hand on his pants, and then held it out to the green eyed male, a wide grin on his lips.

"Alfred F. Jones, U.S. Army, Technician fifth class."

Arthur hesitated but with a small smile took the other's hand in a firm grip. "Sergeant Arthur Kirkland, British Army."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Just to let you know...**

**This fic is set towards the end of WWII as it ended in 1945 so it will not be solely set in the P.O.W camp. Also, the camp is specifically Stalag IV-B which was located in Zeithain, Germany (if you want to know its exact location, look it up because I am too lazy to go into detail).**

**Also in case you didn't know...**

**Rutabaga is also called "Swedish turnip" and used as food and livestock feed. Many P. in Germany had to eat it and most of the time it was watered down because the Germans themselves had to ration their food.**

**Also, Jerries is what the Brits called Germans during WWII.**

**AND did you know that the Germans called the Russians Ivan during WWII!**

**Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this fic. Feel free to review, I get all excited when I see that lovely email in my inbox. If you see any mistakes please let me know so I can fix them. I always seem to miss quite a bit as my brain likes to just skip right over my mistakes.**

**Thank you and until next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I decided to move up the rating just to be safe and because there might be some suggestive moments in the future.**

**Enjoy!**

_The brave eagle and the unicorn cared for one another and supported each other. They did not give up because they knew they would return home again, to the beautiful blue skies they sorely missed. _

_The black eagle squawked in delight having finally captured his prey. He boasted to the other eagles about his skill and strength saying that someday he would rule the world. The other eagles cheered and praised their leader. However, one smaller black eagle was different from the rest. _

_This eagle was of pure heart and a friend of the unicorn, since that same unicorn had saved someone quite dear to him._

**February 1945**

"Choose the card with the black stain." Arthur whispered as Alfred watched a fellow prisoner cut the deck of playing cards, provided by Arthur from his handy alcove under the floor.

It was evening and their daily meal had just been served, the men were dividing a loaf of stale bread, however, the prisoners had a habit of splitting the loaf into uneven pieces. Therefore the British soldiers had developed a system where each man would pick a card and the numbers determined the piece you received. Unfortunately for Alfred and his American counterparts, the British could already distinguish between the cards through their certain markings. Thankfully, Alfred had grown close to Arthur over the weeks since his arrival at the camp, and he advised Alfred on which card to choose.

After their large pieces of bread were collected, Alfred and Arthur moved towards their bunks, they spread their food items on top of one and began to split it between each other. Arthur had just received a care package but the German soldiers had only allowed him keep a box of cigarettes and a bar of chocolate because the remainder of the parcel was turned over to the camp cook to use for their meals. Alfred had to laugh as he caught Arthur longingly staring at the chocolate bar he turned in his hands.

"Arthur, you do know that's Ex-Lax don't ya? If you ate that you'd be shitting for days."

Arthur slapped the American, "I know that, you twat, it's just..I miss chocolate. English chocolate I mean, not that American crap you consider chocolate."

"Hey, we have the best chocolate thank you very much."

Arthur's eyes rolled before he returned to the food in front of them.

After a few minutes both men were devouring their bread, mostly packed with wood fill fibre. They also consumed a couple of potatoes and a piece of cheese which was about as large as Alfred's thumbnail.

Despite the meal's poor quality, it was the highlight of every prisoner's day. Hunger was constant and food dominated everyone's thoughts. In fact, many prisoners, including Alfred volunteered for potato digging details, in the hope of smuggling a few extra potatoes for themselves. However, the Germans were one step ahead and as soon as the prisoners were lead back into camp, they were searched; in the end the pile of confiscated potatoes almost equalled the amount the prisoners had dug up.

The Russians seemed to suffer more than any other prisoner, they were given less food and Alfred would watch as a number of Russians ran towards wagons that came into camp, trying to grab as many potatoes as they could. They would always fall to the ground, blood oozing from bullet wounds at the base of their sculls. Every day more and more corpses were hauled from the Russian compound; Alfred hoped that neither he nor Arthur would join them.

A blaring siren echoed throughout the camp startling Alfred and Arthur. The sound of dogs barking and men yelling caused all the prisoners in the room to run towards the door. Each man peered through one of the wall's cracks. Alfred pushed forwards quickly, stealing himself one. It was quite dark outside but many of the German soldiers were carrying torches. Alfred followed the beam of light, and in the distance he could make out a large figure sprinting out of the camp, towards the outskirts of the camp, and into the surrounding forest. The man turned, Alfred instantly recognised the escapee to be Ivan.

"That bastard!" An Englishman swore next to him.

"Alfred, what's happening?" Arthur was pushing him, trying to get a better view.

Alfred moved over, allowing Arthur to look "It's Ivan, he's escaping again."

"Again? Well…you have to give him credit, he is definitely determined." A few men nodded in agreement.

Alfred was surprised that the man had not been shot after his first escape attempt. At that moment a series of gun shots sounded.

"Hey! Arthur let me see, has he been hit?"

"No, he escaped into the forest but soldiers are following with dogs, they will probably catch him soon enough." After a few more minutes, Arthur moved away from the door, and headed back to his bunk with Alfred tailing behind.

The prisoners soon lost interest as Ivan could no longer be seen, they returned to their bunks, most choosing to sleep. Alfred fell down onto his own bunk and watched as Arthur began his nightly routine. He would first make sure that the wood covering his hidden alcove was placed properly, then he would unfold his blanket but instead of wrapping himself up in it like Alfred, he would lay on top of it, making sure to brush it down beforehand, removing any cockroaches that may have snuck into the blanket's folds during the day.

"Are you done yet Artie?"

Arthur looked up into Alfred blue eyes, and narrowed his gaze. "I have told you to refrain from calling me that stupid nickname."

"You know you find it endearing, don't lie to yourself." Alfred poked out his tongue cheekily. Arthur could help but smile at the American. Arthur had come to enjoy Alfred's company, his sunny disposition not just raised Arthur's spirits but overall morale was higher among the men. The prisoners would often laugh at his goofy nature, in fact, only the night before Alfred had been slicing a slab of cheese for the men and decided a flatulence joke was appropriate, he passed wind, all the while saying:

"Sorry guys, it looks like I've cut the cheese.. ahaha..get it?"

The men roared with laughter, mostly at his sheer stupidity but all the same it brought a smile to every face and a few tears to their eyes.

Arthur did not realise his mind had wandered and it was not until Alfred began waving his hands about that he snapped back to the present and crawled into bed.

Alfred, having stopped trying to grapple for Arthur's attention, had eased himself back down onto his bunk.

Arthur now faced the American when he slept; watching Alfred's sleeping face had become quite an amusing pastime, especially when there was a constant puddle of saliva that pooled under his cheek. He never let Alfred catch him watching though.

Alfred sighed loudly.

"What's wrong?" questioned Arthur.

"I just miss my family you know? It would have been my mom's birthday today. We always had to spoil her, breakfast in bed, a mountain of presents..the lot really. I can't imagine how she would feel on her birthday knowing that one of her son's is possibly dead, she always worried about never seeing her sons again." Alfred had a sinking feeling. Would he ever see his mother again?

"You will see your family again Alfred. No German's are going to stop the hero."

Alfred laughed. "You are starting to know me well Arthur."

In fact, since the soldiers had constantly been in each other's company, many had discovered a great deal about one another. However, Alfred knew nothing about Arthur and as Alfred had found out from the soldiers, no one knew anything about the Sergeant either. On a few occasions he had tried to raise the subject about family with Arthur but the conversation would always diverge and revolve around Alfred. At that moment, Alfred convinced himself that he would learn more about the secretive Englishman.

Alfred pondered for a few moments.

"….What is your favourite colour?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Alfred. "Urr that question seems slightly out of left field," Alfred pouted "but… if you must know, at the moment, it is blue. May I ask what colour you prefer?"

"Mine's green but a nice green… hmmm…kinda like..like the green of your eyes."

Arthur blushed and hoped that Alfred could not see. "I find a sky blue quite pleasant, a blue sky is rare in England but when there is one, I love it, it just makes my day all the brighter."

"You should come to America when we get out of here, and then you can always find a blue sky," Arthur started to laugh, "Maybe bring your family with you?"

Arthur suddenly fell silent and flipped onto his back, looking away from Alfred, he groaned as the movement jolted his starved and weakened body.

"Are you alright?"

Arthur didn't reply. Alfred panicked. Had he angered the Englishman? Would he stop talking to him?

"Oh shit, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." When Arthur still did not answer, Alfred pulled his blanket closer, closed his eyes, and whispered goodnight, not wanting to say anything else that may anger or offend the other man more.

As Alfred began to dose off he heard a soft whisper, "I would if I had a family to bring."

* * *

For the next few days Alfred could not help but be concerned. No smile had crept onto Arthur's lips and he was eating less, having only pecked at his pieces of bread. Ever since Alfred mentioned Arthur's family, the Briton had fallen into a sullen mood, leaving Alfred to feel immensely guilty.

It was evening meal time and the bread they had received had sections that were furry and green. The men who received the mouldy portions groaned but hunger had driven them to a point where food of any quality was suitable to eat. Alfred watched as Arthur was handed a mouldy piece; the American looked down at his own, not a speck of green visible. Alfred quickly grabbed for Arthur, there was an angered cry but Alfred exchanged the pieces, shoving his own bread into the Briton's arms.

Arthur looked puzzled, "Alfred..I don't want this, take it." He tried to thrust the bread back into Alfred arms but his arm was slapped away in turn.

"No, you haven't eaten properly in days and don't say you have because I watch you. You hide it away, under that floorboard when you think I'm not looking. I don't want you to become sick, or even worse die, all because you didn't eat!"

Alfred had raised his voice and drawn the attention of other prisoners in the barrack.

Arthur quickly clapped a hand of Alfred's mouth, stifling any sound the man made. "Alfred, shhh! You are too loud!"

Arthur kept a firm grip even when Alfred squirmed, "Will you be quiet so I can explain?"

Alfred breathed out heavily but nodded.

"Good." Arthur pulled his hand away and drew Alfred to a far corner of the barrack. When the other prisoners continued to stare, Arthur shot them a glare and they dispersed quickly enough, returning to their bread.

As both men sat down on the damp wooden floorboards Arthur checked to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Okay Arthur I am listening, tell me why is it you haven't been eating."

Arthur cleared his throat, "I am storing food away."

"Err, for what?"

"Well, when you told me of wanting to see your family again, it made me think, why shouldn't you? We should get out of here."

"What, you mean escape?"

Arthur's eyes gleamed at Alfred's words. "Yes, that exactly"

"What?! Arthur, how do you propose we escape a camp that is heavily guarded by armed soldiers? I may be the hero but I'm not that reckless or suicidal!" Alfred had begun to raise his voice again.

"Alfred, I told you to quieten down. Also, I don't mean running out there like some sort of lunatic. We can plan it, find out the easiest escape route, where the nearest town is, and try and find a way to an allied force."

Alfred shook his head, "Arthur that is all better said than done but how are we meant to find out these things, I doubt the Germans are going to serve us the answers at meal time."

"This is where having someone on the inside is handy." Arthur smirked.

"Woah, wait. You have someone undercover…who?"

"I wouldn't say undercover since he was already an SS officer when I met him. He is a German who owes me a few favours…"

"What did you do for him?" Alfred couldn't help but convey a certain amount of suspicion, considering one was not known to trust an SS officer.

"I reunited him with his lover."

Alfred's eyebrows were raised, "The person must be quite important to him to have him betray his country."

"Love makes a person change, both inside and out."

Alfred watched Arthur smile for the first time in days. "So…what favours did the soldier promise?"

Arthur gestured towards the loose floorboard next to his bunk. "He provided me with that radio, he stole it from the camp storeroom, and he also provided me with some writing materials.

"What do you use the writing stuff for?" Arthur dismissed Alfred's query.

"It doesn't matter at the moment; however, I think the soldier can help us find a way out. I will see him later tonight so I will ask him then. If we are to escape we need enough food to last a while and leaving without anything is highly impractical."

Alfred was silent for a moment as his mind ticked over, suddenly something clicked. "Hey, what if I go on a wood detail tomorrow, I can see what is out there and all the while determining a suitable direction to take through the woods."

"Hmmm, that's a good idea because we should probably know a bit more about the surrounding forests before me throw ourselves straight into it."

Arthur and Alfred had resorted to hushed whispers and discussed their plan further into the evening until they were ordered to sleep.

The night dragged on, Arthur had fallen asleep but as Alfred lay in bed, his heart swelled at the thought of escaping the nightmarish prison though it also plummeted at the possibility of both him and Arthur joining many other prisoners, a bullet to the base of the skull, their blood staining the dirt beneath them.

If only Alfred knew what would really transpire in the coming days, he probably would have done things differently.

**A/N: **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited (Favorited.. Sorry I am not American haha) and followed!**

**I offer my deepest thanks! **

**If you have any questions feel free to ask, and if you pick up any mistakes, let me know.**

**I am trying to get the chapters up as frequently as I can but life is a teeny bit busy at the moment. Anyway, thanks again and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! **


	3. Chapter 3

**April 1945**

The truck jumped violently as it dipped into another hole in the road and Alfred again was thrown into the man next to him. He cursed at his bound hands trying to push himself upright whilehis muscles groaned under the effort.

The repetitive task of chopping of trees for hours had taken a toll on Alfred's normally strong body and no aid came from the months of rations that caused his strength to diminish. Not only that but his resolve was crumbling too. Many were losing hope, including Alfred and he knew Arthur struggled, despite his attempts to retain a certain amount of composure.

He was selfish and he knew that. Arthur had suffered a great deal longer and faced more difficulty but he still tried to keep calm and carry on. Alfred could remember Arthur's comforting hand on his back that night not too long ago. He could remember the radio with the report he wished he had never heard.

* * *

_Two weeks earlier…_

As the sun slowly began to disappear behind the trees, Alfred trudged back to his barrack, surrounded by a group of German guards. To Alfred's dismay, the wood detail had once again been unsuccessful; the soldiers worked the prisoners to exhaustion and watched them like hawks. Alfred had attempted numerous times to wander off, hoping to find a road that could be used as an escape route. However, time and time again he would end up being dragged back by a burly blond officer who Alfred noticed, barely ever let him out of his sight.

Alfred was now well known because of his tendency to 'wander' so he had the privilege of being escorted around by a group of soldiers. Alfred could definitely say he didn't enjoy them breathing down his neck and thanks to his attempt that day, two more guards had joined the party, therefore, making it nearly impossible for him to continue with his future searches.

The barrack door closed behind him and the soldiers retreated back to their stations, Alfred just wanted to fall into his bunk and allow sleep take hold but Arthur had other plans. The radio was already sitting on his bunk waiting for his return and so was Arthur, eyebrows furrowed as he fiddled with the knobs.

"Can't we listen tomorrow Artie? I'm tired?

Alfred yawned on cue as Arthur looked up.

"Sorry Alfred, the other men wanted to hear more news about our status, I objected but majority ruled."

Alfred groaned but resorted to splaying himself across Arthur's bed while the Englishman just shook his head and returned to the radio. Alfred adjusted himself, fluffing the pillow to his satisfaction but then his hand brushed something. Curious, he slowly lifted the pillow and slipped a peek. Looking over to Arthur, Alfred decided he was far too engrossed in his task too notice, so the American pulled it out. To his surprise, it was a small black notebook and engraved in flowery script, _Arthur Kirkland_.

Checking that the Briton was still occupied, he opened it; a pen that had been placed as a marker fell onto the bed. Quickly, Alfred shoved it back into place but his eyes were drawn to the flowing handwritten script upon the page. From first glance, it looked to be a poem, well at least part of one.

_I dreamed I stood upon a little hill, __  
__And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed __  
__Like a waste garden, flowering at its will __  
__With buds and blossoms. There were pools that dreamed __  
__Black and unruffled; there were white lilies __  
__A few, and crocuses, and violets __  
__Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries __  
__Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets __  
__Blue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun. __  
__And there were curious flowers, before unknown…_

"What are you doing?"

His heart almost leapt out of his chest. Arthur stood over him, his green eyes venomous and all Alfred could do was mumble incoherently. The book was snatched away.

"Wait…Arthur did you write that? If you did….urr…it's really good."

Alfred watched the tips of Arthur's ears redden, he coughed, "Of course not I could never write anything like that!"

Alfred swung his legs over the bed's edge and leaned closer. "I bet you could but if you didn't, who did?"

Arthur had his back turned as he continued to adjust the radio. "A poet alright, now would you please shut up."

Alfred began to whine but the return of Arthur's deadly stare silenced him, leading him to decide, leaving the investigation for later was a better option, Arthur seemed to be more open right before sleep anyway.

The radio began to transmit words but nothing entirely coherent. The crackle of the radio had become a familiar sound, one of comfort to the prisoners. It represented hope, informing them that not all was lost and liberation was in the near future.

The Red Army was advancing quickly on the Eastern Front and the Allied Expeditionary could see victory in sight, however, the news did not bring smiles to the prisoner's faces. Many of the men felt that their salvation would not come from the Soviet army and that perhaps they would have to endure being prisoners for a while longer. A certain lack of trust was felt towards the Russian army by the British and American forces; radio reports confirmed that.

"Hey, Alfred, didn't you say your brother was fighting against the Japanese?" A prisoner questioned, snapping Alfred out of his trance. The radio had begun to emit its usual choppy report.

"Yeah."

"Well, they're talking about our status against the Japs."

_1700 of…Canadian contingent reported missing after the efforts against Japanese forces in Hong Kong…_

Alfred's attention was instantly focused on the metal box, "Arthur, turn it up a bit."

…_. prisoners…held captive__…assault on Japanese base…bombing…so far no survivors have been found….likely to have perished in the attack..pzzztt…the assault on the home front..pzzzzt._

The radio dropped out.

"Seems like no Americans were involved aye Alfred? Your brother should be fine." Alfred received a few claps on the back.

There was no reply. Arthur turned expecting to see a relieved American but instead he looked the complete opposite. His skin was pallid.

"Alfred, are you alright?"

"My brother…"

Arthur reached towards Alfred who met Arthur's gaze, his blue eyes watered, "My brother is Canadian."

The American broke down.

A fellow prisoner spoke up, "Your brother might have not been involved?"

"HE WAS STATIONED IN HONG KONG!" Arthur quickly wrapped an arm around Alfred whose outburst had reduced him to a trembling mess.

* * *

The truck jumped again, and Alfred winced as a prisoner's bony elbow rammed into his side.

Even after weeks of further attempts at eluding the guards during the daily wood details, Alfred had come to the conclusion that if they escaped, they would only become lost in the forest, wandering until they fell to starvation.

_The cylinder felt cool against his skin, he welcomed it. He was tired, tired of everything, he just wanted to let go._

Arthur had no luck with his German friend, informing Arthur that the other soldiers were becoming suspicious. They had spotted him leaving one night and on his return, questioned him, threatening his life in the process. Sadly, the two men had no other option but to remain and wait for their rumoured 'liberation' by the Soviet Red Army.

"_They will never come Arthur, what is the point in trying anymore?"_

"_Idiot, how did you get that? Drop it now!"_

_Alfred felt empty; weeks of searching had led to nothing…and now… his brother was most likely dead. _

"_How are we supposed to get out of here if our only hope bailed on us, huh?"_

"_You took it from under the floor, didn't you?" _

_Alfred pulled the pistol to his head._

"_Alfred! I promised you we would escape, so trust me and give me the gun!"_

_"Just stop it Arthur! I just don't want this anymore! If I don't die now, I will just die later. Rather go quickly than suffer through this shit!"_

"_Don't you dare give up, the hero never gives up; you will stand tall and fight. You wouldn't just be abandoning the men who look to you for support… you would be abandoning me! Please Alfred…"_

The truck came to an abrupt stop, pulling Alfred away from his thoughts; he squinted at the light that flooded in as the doors were flung open. They had arrived back at camp; harsh fluorescence illuminated the area penetrating the night. Alfred was forced out of the truck's rear, into single file along with the other men, pistols held threateningly close to their heads. Security had increased since an escape attempt a few days ago when a group of Australian men had tried to overcome their German captives and hijack the truck that had carried them. The only truck they escaped in however was one reserved for those who had met Death.

The march back to the barracks felt like a walk of shame, German soldiers sneered and taunted them, some even spitting and laughing at the men and their weakened states. Alfred knew that Arthur's friend stood amongst them but he did not know whom. Arthur would always visit the soldier alone, never allowing Alfred to join him, saying, "It is too risky, we are less likely to be caught if I go alone."

Alfred understood his logic but he still did not approve of Arthur being so vulnerable Thankfully, now that the German could not meet, Alfred needed not to worry any longer.

As soon as Alfred recognised the stench of rotting excrement he knew he had returned to the hovel he now called 'home'. He and the other men were pushed through the door, and as per usual it was slammed shut behind them.

"Alfred!"

Alfred turned, and approaching quickly in the darkened room was Arthur.

"Hey, Art… wait, what are you doing?"

Arthur pulled Alfred by his arm towards their bunks; Arthur dropped to his knees and removed the section of the wooden flooring, pulling out the radio receiver and placing it on his bed.

_No, not again….please!_

Alfred noticed that the other prisoners were watching from their own bunks, and as Arthur placed the wood back into its slot he caught a brief glimpse of a new item stashed away.

"What's that green thing?"

Arthur ignored Alfred.

_Liber….imminent…Red Army….coming days._

"Kirkland, what's wrong with it?" A prisoner grumbled angrily.

"Come on girl, you still have life in you." Arthur twisted the radio's knobs, trying to regain the signal.

_Pzzz…Stalag is the first to be liberated by the Soviet force…pzzz be taken at 1600 hours tomorrow night. It has been agreed that soviet troops will transport prisoners held in Stalag to American and British forces stationed…. This has be….pzz._

There was a brief moment of silence, had they heard correctly? The men began to holler and cheer, with the exception of Arthur and Alfred.

"SHHH, you fools!" Hissed Arthur.

The soldiers continued their loud cheers, causing Alfred to intervene.

"Guys, shut up!"

"Come on Jones we've won!" A dancing prisoner grabbed Alfred and tried to swing him around but the man tore himself away.

"Stop! Do you think they will keep us alive?

The cheering stopped but it was too late.

The door flew off its hinges as dozen guards stormed in. The men tried to run but the soldiers barred the door, surging forward, securing the prisoners, ignoring their feeble attempts to fight back.

A high-ranking officer walked through the door and he instantly looked towards Arthur's bunk.

"What do we have here?" The German officer spotted the radio sitting on Arthur's bed, along with Arthur next to it, struggling against the grip of a fellow German.

"Ahhh, seems like you have hidden something from us little man!" The officer approached Arthur, chuckling under his breath while seizing the radio and throwing it to the floor. The receiver sparked and sizzled at Arthur's feet. The officer bent closer, breathing in his face.

"We have orders to clean up these camps for the Russian's arrival…exterminate the vermin you might say."

The Englishman screamed as the officer secured a hand around Arthur's arm, twisting until it was on the verge of breaking.

At that moment, something snapped in Alfred, yanking him out of the trance that had held him captive for weeks.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Alfred roared, breaking away from the soldier holding him and lunging at the officer, swinging a punch. It struck true. The German, caught by surprise released Arthur and clutched his head, feeling blood trickle from the split skin.

"GRAB THE GREEN EYED RAT, LEAVE THE AMERICAN BASTARD FOR ME!"

Arthur was hauled out of the room by the collar of his shirt. He watched, blurry eyed as other men were taken out with him while the fuming officer threw Alfred to the ground, and dragged him by his hair. Alfred he continued to scream out Arthur's name despite his hair being torn from its roots but before Arthur could reply he was gagged.

Alfred watched as Arthur disappeared into the crowd of prisoners being assembled into lines in the yard. Russians, American, Britons, Australians, Frenchmen and many others were being dragged out of the surrounding barracks, the majority of them frightened beyond belief. The German officer Alfred had attacked raised him to his feet, making him stand before the prisoners.

"Watch as your little boyfriend and these men die. Just know you will be joining them soon…though I can't guarantee your death will be as…swift."

Slowly, the other officers surrounded the prisoners, one for each assembled line, a loaded pistol clasped in their hands. They all stood at attention, some smiled as the prisoners began to realize what was about to occur. Some pleaded, begged, fell to their knees but were only pulled back to their feet by their captors. Others stood tall and spat at the officers who simply used the handle of their guns against the skulls of the defiant prisoners.

"Why don't I count down." The German whispered in Alfred's ear.

"YOU FUCKING SKUM!" An American soldier broke away and ran for the German restraining Alfred. A shot fired. Blood splattered across Alfred. The man lay dead at his feet.

The officer laughed, "I guess we don't need a countdown. Oh look, there is your man!"

The officer forced Alfred's head to the left and standing a few metres away, was Arthur. A cloth was tied around his mouth, muffling his cries. His eyes were red and raw with fallen tears. He could not move. The blond German who always watched Alfred stood behind him, forcing his arms behind his back.

"Ha ha, Ludwig I knew you were trustworthy. I had my doubts but you really shone through. Gaining that man's trust must have been difficult, who knew that Sergeant Arthur Kirkland was such a well-informed soldier… or a spy for the British Army perhaps?"

The officer dragged Alfred forward, closer to Arthur, and spat in Arthur's face.

"YOU THOUGHT YOU HAD FOOLED US! HA, THINKING THAT WE WOULD BE FOOLED BY THAT FAKE BROADCAST! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TRUSTED LUDWIG SO MUCH!"

The officer's booming voice could have been heard for miles. He turned to the crowd of prisoner's and officers around him.

"Do you all wonder why, whenever you listened to that radio, why the reports always happened to be ones that were of relevance to you? This idiotic man tried to make us believe that the Russian's were attacking tomorrow but in fact…they are to attack tonight. However, its not just my men who should be furious..what about you?"

The officer pointed at a prisoner who cowered where he stood.

"And you?"

"And you?"

"He didn't tell you it was a fake broadcast!"

The officer yelled out to one of his subordinates. A burly man stepped forward and threw a duffel bag at Arthur's feet. Alfred recognized the material; he had seen the army green canvas under the floorboard earlier.

"Also, this man was planning to leave before the Russian's arrived."

The men looked at Arthur shocked. One man even spoke up,

"You knew how to escape Kirkland?" Arthur looked down at his feet and nodded.

"Then why the FUCK DIDN'T YOU TELL US?" The men stares were like daggers puncturing holes into Arthur from all directions.

"It is because he wanted to save himself boys. Do you think he really cared about you?

Arthur eyes went wide, this was not meant to happen!

He looked to Alfred, trying to meet his gaze but Alfred was shocked. He could not believe Arthur lied to him, he thought he could call Arthur a friend.

The German officer grabbed the dog tags that hung around Alfred's neck. "Don't you feel betrayed…Alfred F. Jones? This man lied to you, used you."

Arthur tried to scream. The man was lying! Though, his yells were muffled under the strap of cloth binding his mouth.

Alfred looked into Arthur's eyes. Alfred couldn't mask the pain he felt and he hoped to convey it to the one he supposedly called a friend.

However, as their gazes deepened, Alfred could see something. Arthur's eyes pleaded and begged to him but what he could not mistake was the anger. The anger he had become so familiar with.

This wasn't right. Arthur was not the person to betray a man, and he would never betray Alfred, not after all Arthur had done for him.

_He dropped the gun, and cried into Arthur's shoulder, listening to the Englishman's voice as he whispered to him. _

"_We will get through this, we will see that lovely blue sky of home again."_

"You're lying."

"What was that Jones?" The officer sneered.

"IT'S ALL LIES!"

"What?"

"Arthur would never do that! He would never abandon his men. He is a true soldier through and through! In fact, I wouldn't have made it this far without him and I think the men who have know him would think the same!"

Alfred scanned the crowd and saw the many men he had become acquainted with nod in turn.

A few men began to cheer and shout Arthur's name. The German's struggled to keep them in line. A British soldier Alfred remembered from the wood details pushed forward.

"Kirkland is no traitor, he has led me into this war and he will lead me out! Fuck you, you bast…"

Bang.

"Next person who speaks will follow him!" The officer waved the smoking pistol in the air leading Alfred away from the prisoners. Alfred tried reaching out for Arthur but the distance between them had become too large and all they could do was focus their fearful stares on one another.

Then Alfred felt the officer's breath by his ear, "Say goodbye."

In a heartbeat the German yelled the command.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Bodies fell.

"ARTHUR!"

Alfred screamed, trying to break free but the German's grip remained firm. Alfred's ears rang, silence seemed to follow as bodies dropped and blood stained the ground.

That was not the end; the smell of kerosene assaulted the American's nose.

"NO…FUCK…YOU CAN'T! STOP!"

The soldiers continued on, dousing the bodies of the dead soldiers.

"PLEASE!"

Alfred felt his heart break as the first match was lit, flames roared to life, consuming the bodies until an inferno towered above him. The scent of burning flesh made Alfred's stomach turn, he tried to look away but his head was forced to turn towards the flames.

"This is for punching me boy, watch as your fellow men burn."

In the distance he heard high-pitched screams. Women and children were being forced out of the barracks, along with other soldiers.

"We still have more to go, can't leave anyone out can we?" The officer smile made Alfred's blood run cold.

All Alfred felt was pure hatred for the man and his soldiers, "Bastard…. I hope you burn in hell!"

"Oh, not before you."

"What?!" Alfred suddenly felt his skin grow hot; the flames drawing closer.

"Hmm, well, since you have been such a good boy, I think we should skip the shooting–bullets are precious you know—it's a lot easier to just throw you in with the others. You can join your dear Sergeant Kirkland."

Alfred felt as if his heart was going to burst out his chest as the flames began to lick at his skin. He tried to use his teeth to rip at the man's arm but his air supply cut off as the officer closed his hands around his neck. He clawed at the hands as he tried to gasp for air. His body was growing numb, his vision blurring. He was shutting down, giving up.

"Arthur…"

* * *

**A/N:**

**Sorry guys.**


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